


Almost Impossible

by Ruenis



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Anthology, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medication, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: 'Foreign' means unfamiliar. 'Unfamiliar' means not have prior knowledge or experience.  Those kinds of things, Inaho knows, are hard to grasp, feel fake, imaginary. Those kinds of things are painful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Orangebat (Inasure) Anthology](www.orangebat-sanctuary.com) which I and many other authors participated in!! Huge thanks to Rosiel for organising the entire event. ❤

“ _Are you okay?”_

 _Inaho gazes at the blond –_ is he blond? I can't remember what he looked like; he's a blur of white _– and nods a bit, allowing the older boy to gently squeeze his hands. “I.. I'm okay,” he says quietly, and the boy grins, seeming happy._

“ _Don't climb that tree again, okay?” the boy asks, and his voice is soft, so soft, so kind, that Inaho manages a nod; he will_ **not** _be climbing that tree any time soon._

“ _What's your name?” Inaho asks, the boy unfamiliar, foreign._

 _The boy's smile softens and he pulls Inaho up to his feet, “My name_ _is.. –––._ _”_

**

Blinking at the 'name' listed on the small form, Inaho finds himself taken by surprise. Usually, people write down their real names, though there are the occasional.. _oddities.._ who write something else. He has no problem calling them out, does not feel any embarrassment or shame at the things that are probably meant to be amusing. Once the customers hear him call out the 'name' listed on the slip in his serious, even, blank tone, the amusement usually disappears.

This was not one of those names. It was just odd. Foreign. The café does not get very many foreigners, and mostly serves regulars and students.

“.. 'Angel'?” he calls, and moments later, someone fitting of the 'normal' image of such a creature comes to the counter.

“Yes?”

Inaho gazes at the customer, a blond who looks similar in age to himself. “Is that your name?” he asks.

He always asks. Even the customers with odd, weird things that probably are not their names, he asks them anyway. Mostly he does it for confirmation, and to make sure they are the person that ordered, but sometimes, he is just curious as to what their reaction would be.

Their reactions are amusing, sometimes.

Offering him a smile, the blond shakes his head, answering honestly, “No. It's not.” Still, despite that, he does not seem shamed or embarrassed at being caught in what would be a white lie.

Inaho catches his eyes, easily, and realises that they are similar in colour to the malachite mineral they are currently studying in class.

 _An odd, foreign_ **colour** _for an odd, foreign_ **person** _with an odd, foreign_ **name** _._

 _It fits,_ he supposes, setting the small slip of paper down on the counter between them. He places a plastic cup beside it, the cup filled with milk and chocolate and a bit of salt. An odd order, but everyone has their tastes, he supposes. Perhaps this kind of drink is normal wherever this person comes from. “Here's your order,” he says quietly, holding out a straw for the blond to take.

The blond's smile softens as he takes the straw, and his eyes flicker downward, to the name-tag on Inaho's chest. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling the paper off of the straw, and then putting the flimsy white paper covering into his pocket. “It isn't my name, but you can call me that. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other, Inaho,” he hums, and there is an odd, yet warm glint in his eyes as he places the straw through the cup's covering.

Inaho gazes at the foreigner, 'Angel', for just a moment more, watching as he takes the slip of paper and the cup, sipping on the drink. His sleeve slips, and he sees something along the blond's wrist, a tattoo or.. a scar? He ignores it for now, saying instead, “.. have a good day.”

Inko has advised him to merely be polite, and ignore odd, unnecessary comments.. and also to ignore odd features.

“You, too,” Angel returns, “Have a wonderful day, Inaho.”

**

“ _Y-you broke your arm?!”_

_Inaho raises his head a bit at the cry, finding himself completely taken by surprise to see his friend in his hospital room._

“ _Are you okay?!” the boy asks, rushing forward, heaving himself up onto the elevated bed, “What happened? When did this happen?” He reaches forward gingerly, fingertips grazing Inaho's purple, bruise blotched skin._

“ _An.. hour ago,” Inaho answers, not quite sure why the boy is being so gentle; he is currently almost completely numb thanks to the medicine a nurse had given him, and he can barely even feel his arm moving. “I.. know you said not to climb the tree, but.. there was a bird's nest..”_

_The boy makes a face, seeming unhappy with Inaho's reasoning; it still led to him getting hurt. “Please don't do anything that could end up with you hurt..” he murmurs, and his voice is low again, strained, “Promise?”_

“ _.. okay,” Inaho agrees after a moment, nodding somewhat, “I promise.”_

“ _Good,” the boy breathes, seeming relieved. His fingers linger over Inaho's bruised arm, and he bites his bottom lip, seeming hesitant. “Can I..?”_

“ _I can't feel it right now.”_

_Relief again flickers across his friend's face, and the boy allows himself to grip Inaho's arm, smoothing it with his thumb. “Please.. be more careful, Inaho..”_

_Inaho nods a bit, gazing at the other._ What colour were his eyes? _he wonders, unable to remember. “I'll be more careful, –––,” he promises again, and the boy smiles at that, releasing his arm._

*

_Inaho goes home that day without a cast; it seems the doctors had made a mistake about his arm being broken, and it had only been mildly bruised from the fall._

**

Inaho has seen Angel almost every day he comes into work. Some days he fails to show up completely, and others he stays only for an hour or two before excusing himself and leaving, wandering off to who knows where.

Every day he is in, without fail, Angel sits at the same table, a small, circular thing in the corner where the light is the brightest – most customers avoid that particular area, disliking the way the sun shines in their eyes – and orders a variety of things: the chocolate milk drink with salt from before, a caramel frappe with almond milk and whipped cream, a small plate of macadamia nut cookies, a slice of strawberry short cake..

It is.. odd, just like he is.

And, without fail, Angel always has a smile on. It seems genuine enough, but.. Inaho cannot shake the feeling that something is off.

Maybe it is the fake name? The fact that he sits in the same spot, without sunglasses, and does not seem irritated by the sun in his eyes? The way he only orders when Inaho is the one minding the register, and always speaks to him in that soft, gentle tone?

.. the last one is something Inaho has noticed during the past weeks. When Inko is minding the register, Angel remains at his table, and he will not take anything from her, either. Either way, it is odd, but Angel has been rather cordial so far and has not done anything to warrant caution.. he even allows Inaho to keep the change he gives him, a fact that both pleases Inko and upsets her a bit – she feels it is wrong to keep the excess change, but the blond refuses to keep it, leaving them to either keep it or throw it out.

So Inaho merely does his job, minding the register when it is his turn, gives Angel his orders..

“Inaho? I want to order something else.”

Raising his head a bit at the now familiar voice, the brunet finds himself gazing at a now familiar face with that now familiar, warm, smile on his lips. “Angel,” he greets, and the simple greeting earns him an even bigger smile. He presses his hands against the counter; he had been sorting sugars and creams, a task that keeps him occupied and and his mind calmed. “What would you like to order?” he asks, still unable to find it within himself to force being polite; he has worked here since he was fifteen, and he still is not quite used to speaking with customers.

“Mm..” The blond hums softly, gaze flickering downward to the small chalkboard that rests against the register; it displays their main menu items, the most popular ones. So far, Angel has only ordered from the chalkboard. “Could I have..” he murmurs, trailing off; he raises his hand a bit, brushing a tuft of near-white behind his ear.

Inaho catches glimpse of the.. _is that a scar..?_ along Angel's wrist, and at this angle, he can see it a bit better, and it almost looks like.. a series of jagged lines, sort of like..

 _.. like a heartbeat,_ he realises, blinking at the sight. Those kind of tattoos are popular, but he has never actually seen one before.

“Ah, that. I want the powdered sugar chocolate donuts, Inaho,” Angel says, raising his head a bit to find Inaho staring at him rather pointedly.

The brunet's gaze flickers upward and he blinks in surprise, seemingly not having expected to get caught.

“Are you curious?” Angel asks, flashing the other a small grin, “I'll show you my tattoo, if you are. And in exchange, maybe you could give me a chocolate cookie?”

Inaho immediately holds out his hand, not missing a beat. “I'll give you a cookie, since you're offering..”

“I am, and you didn't ask,” Angel says, nodding, knowing full well that the brunet is limited in what he can request; asking to look at a tattoo, for example, would be considered inappropriate and rude. He holds his wrist out, staying quiet as Inaho gently takes it, fingertips grazing his skin.

The tattoo is what Inaho had expected: a heartbeat line. His skin seems to be fine, and the ink is almost.. whitish, just off-colour enough to be distinguished from his pale skin. That was why he had thought it was a scar, before.

“Did it hurt?” Inaho asks, noting that the skin is not raised or irritated; the tattoo is not new, then.

“No. Are you thinking of getting one?” Angel asks curiously, blue-green eyes lingering on Inaho's face; the brunet looks _immensely_ interested in his newfound discovery.

“I.. had never considered it before, but..”

Angel hums, allowing the other to trace his thumb against his wrist, not minding at all; it would seem Inaho feels no embarrassment, either, curiosity entirely overruling what would normally be awkwardness. “I think something similar would suit you,” he says quietly, “Perhaps your sister's?”

Inaho raises his head at that. “I never said I had a sister,” he points out.

“The brunette you walked in with last week, the tall one.. she looked liked you,” Angel explains, smiling somewhat, “Was I wrong?”

“.. no. She's my sister. Her name is Yuki,” Inaho murmurs, gaze returning to the blond's wrist. _So he's smarter than he seems,_ he thinks to himself, noting that Angel has acted rather childish during these few weeks; he had assumed the blond was simply immature, but it seems that he is just childish by personality.

“I'm right, then.”

“Would you like another cookie?” Inaho asks, and Angel blinks, taken by surprise.

“You'll give me another one for free?”

“.. that.. was a joke,” Inaho murmurs, shaking his head a bit, and Angel's features slip just a bit, looking a bit hurt by the false promise of sweets.

“Oh,” Angel says softly, “That's.. fine. Just the first cookie and the donuts, then, please.”

Inaho nods somewhat, catching Angel's blue-green eyes, features laced with childish hurt. _He's not very mature, is he?_ he wonders, sighing quietly, _I'm sure Inko wouldn't mind if I gave him an extra one._

**

He does not see Angel for a week after their last conversation.

**

“Inaho, have you been drinking water?” Inko asks, very gently nudging the brunet.

“I'm not thirsty,” Inaho answers, shaking his head.

“Have you taken a break?”

Inaho turns to gaze at her for a moment, seeing concern in her eyes.

Today has been exceptionally busy; it is New Years Eve, and people have been coming in with all sorts of orders; hot drinks to ward off the cold weather, cakes, breads, assorted pastries to bring home for their party.. some people have even ordered full meals, all of which Inko cooks, and Inaho hands out. Everyone has been on their feet all day, while the younger staff has taken a few breaks already.

“I.. don't need a break,” he finally says after a moment, shaking his head again, “You go take one.”

“ _No_ ,” Inko says firmly, frowning at him now.

She has always been sort of a second sister to him, them being raised together, after all. Inko's parents had been gracious enough to help him and Yuki when their own parents died in a car crash.. since then, they have all lived together as a nice, happy, five person family of sorts. Inaho even refers to her parents as his own at times, having no recollection of his biological ones.

“You are going to go and take a break _now,_ ” Inko murmurs, pulling the brunet aside; he stays quiet as she leads him to their rest area, a small sitting area similar to the café in looks, but designated specially for employees. “I'll get you some water and snacks. Just sit somewhere, okay?” she says, and Inaho forces himself to nod.

He has never been any good at caring for himself. Everything he does is technical. He knows how much he has to eat and drink per day, knows how much the average human can do in a day..

.. he _knows_ , and yet he pushes himself as much as he can everyday. He figures he owes Inko this much, at least, as thanks for her family caring for him and Yuki, as thanks for the job..

Inaho stands motionless for a few moments, watching as she walks toward the back, where their kitchen is. He stands still, unmoving, immobile, and he is not in motion, so why is he falling down?

*

“Mm.. vital signs are stabilised, heartbeat has calmed down..”

Familiar. That voice is familiar. Why?

“You should've listened to your friend. Dehydration is rather painful if not treated immediately, and you were lucky you just fainted instead of throwing up stomach acid.”

Inaho forces himself to open his eyes despite feeling utterly exhausted, and finds himself freezing up upon seeing who is sitting beside him. “A.. Angel..” he murmurs, only earning a small smile.

“Good evening, sleeping beauty,” Angel hums, and in spite of the playful greeting and the smile, he does not look the least bit happy or pleased. In fact, he looks _angry_. “You were sleeping for four hours, you know. It's almost midnight,” he continues, and his tone gradually grows colder, “What were you thinking, not taking a break when you were working all day? It's not a surprise you fainted.”

Ah. He _is_ angry.

Still, the only response Inaho can offer is, “You're a nurse?”

“You're an _idiot_ ,” Angel hisses, standing up rather abruptly, “Go back to sleep. I'll come check on you in half an hour.” He picks up his clipboard and pulls the chair away from the bed, not bothering to do so quietly.

Inaho watches after him, still a bit dazed. The blond is wearing white scrubs and a black turtleneck under, and.. _why is he.. so bright..?_

He does not have much time to think about the question, because seconds later just after Angel shuts the door behind him, sleep steals his consciousness away.

*

When Inaho wakes up again, he feels a bit more aware.

Angel has his back turned on him, sifting through some drawers and cupboards, seemingly looking for something.

Inaho takes the chance to look him over, realising he is indeed wearing white scrubs, not a typical colour for a hospital. He has been here, before.. _right?_ and they had not been wearing white, then, as far as he can recall. White is harder to clean out and it blends in more easily, thus people have started to adopt brighter colours for nurses, shades of pink, blue and green are the most common, and he can faintly recall this hospital used some shade of purple.. _probably._

_Why had I been here?_

He cannot remember; perhaps he would ask Yuki or Inko when they come to pick him up. Angel is still looking for something, back still turned, and Inaho realises that he is not wearing his turtleneck anymore, fully exposing his arms and neck, which are usually covered; now that Inaho thinks about it, he has never seen Angel _not_ wearing some sort of long sleeved garment, even in the café, where it is warmer than the chilled air outside.

And with his skin fully exposed.. Inaho can see more odd, differently shaped, white coloured tattoos all over his skin, along his arms and neck, and they sort of look like..

 _.. feathers,_ Inaho realises, _They look like feathers._

“Ah, here it is,” Angel hums suddenly, turning around.

They both freeze upon meeting the other's gaze.

“.. good morning,” Inaho says after a moment, slowly raising a hand; he stops upon seeing the IV on the back of his hand. _He said.. I was dehydrated.._

Angel hesitates for a moment before stepping toward the other, a small bundle of bandages in his hands. “Good morning,” he returns, “Are you feeling better?” His voice is still low, and judging from his features, he is still a bit upset.

“I am,” Inaho murmurs, gaze flickering between Angel's blue-green eyes and his arms.

Angel does not fail to notice. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?” he questions, setting the bandages down on the chair beside the brunet, “I was just rearranging this room's stock.. I was being quiet while you were sleeping..”

“The hospital doesn't mind you showing off the tattoos?” Inaho questions, and Angel raises an eyebrow, looking visibly confused.

“I only have the one,” the blond says, holding his wrist out, “And since it's so faint, they don't really care.”

 _Only one?_ Inaho wonders, frowning somewhat; he can still see the faint lines along Angel's arm, the barely visible wispy, intricate lines that resemble feathers.. _They're.. sort of.. pretty.._ “You.. don't have any other ones?” he asks quietly, and Angel's confusion only deepens.

“No. I only have this one,” Angel repeats, “You.. don't seem okay. Did your IV run out of fluids..?” He steps a bit closer and starts to inspect the small bags hanging on the silver coat-like hanger, “Oh, they're almost empty.. I'll be right back, got it?”

“I'm not being discharged?”

Angel offers him a playful smile. “You're mine for a few more hours,” he hums, and when he raises his hand to reach over Inaho's head and turn the machine off, the tattoos on his arms are gone. “So stay put, understand? Do not touch anything, and I will be back with more fluids and food for you,” he says, pulling away to rest a hand at the edge of the bed, “Don't get out of bed.”

“.. you're more assertive, now,” Inaho points out, and Angel blinks at the comment, taken by surprise, startled.

“Please don't say something like that with such a straight face,” Angel mumbles, leaning down a bit to gently remove the IV in Inaho's hand. He peels back the tape slowly, carefully, “You really do have no sense of.. _awareness_ , do you?”

“I'm aware of things,” Inaho says plainly.

“Well, obviously not, seeing as I just took the IV out and you didn't even bat an eye,” Angel says, holding it up for the brunet to see. It is a tiny, delicate thing, and its sharp point is devoid of blood. “Feel free to regain the feeling in your hand, but other than that, try not to move so much. You're still recovering and your body is still weak,” he says, tone firm and serious again, “Understand?”

Inaho stares at him for a moment, and then says, “I understand.”

*

Angel _does_ return, as promised, with a bottle of water, a miniature bottle of juice, and a hearty breakfast consisting of fruit and pancakes and bacon. “You have to eat it all,” he says firmly, slowly stepping into the room. He leaves the door open behind him and sets the tray down on Inaho's lap, sliding it toward him, “And if you do not eat it all, I will remain here until you do, and you will not be allowed to go home.”

“I don't think you're allowed to do that,” Inaho counters, though he picks up a fork anyway, gazing at the food before him; he _does_ feel hungry, having not had lunch or dinner the night before.

“I am, and I will enforce it if necessary,” Angel retorts, seeming a bit proud of himself as he moves the bandages from the chair to the bed, beside Inaho's leg, and sits himself down, leaning back as he gazes at the other.

Inaho frowns a bit again, poking at a stray strawberry, not quite sure if Angel is actually allowed to do that. He has had no reason to research hospitals extensively, and has only been in one.. _once? Or was it twice? Four times?_ He cannot recall, his childhood memories a bit fuzzy, and he is not quite sure why. Yuki and Inko also seem to have a bit of trouble recalling their childhood, and no one seems to be sure why. According to Inko's parents, their childhood was not particularly bad, aside from the very beginning, when..

Well, Inaho cannot remember their parents, and thus does not feel any sort of attachment.

“Eat, Inaho,” Angel orders, drawing the brunet out of his thoughts, “You need to replenish your electrolytes.” He sounds serious again, and the tone does not suit him.

“I'm not a battery.”

“.. you might as well be one with the way you act,” Angel mumbles under his breath, causing Inaho to blink at him.

“What was that?”

Angel raises his head a bit, forcing a smile. “Nothing,” he says, gesturing to the tray, “Eat.”

*

“ _Inaho?”_

_Stopping himself for a moment at the edge of the sidewalk, Inaho finds himself turning around to gaze at no one. He is alone in the dusk, and there is a chill in the air, a biting chill that leaves his cheeks a rosy pink and his nose a harsh red. He turns back toward the empty road, taking slow steps, cautious, careful steps._

“ _Go faster.”_

“ _What?” Inaho asks aloud, spinning around again, “Who is..–”_

“ _Inaho, no, don't..!”_

*

Inaho allows himself to gaze at the blond nurse, who is currently messing with a phone – or is that a tablet? it looks rather large – and seems to be texting someone, or at least writing something. _He doesn't have an ID,_ Inaho realises, frowning somewhat. His uniform is rather standard, even if it is a colour that is slowly being discontinued, and he seems to have various things that a nurse _would_ have: pens hanging from his pockets, what seems to be the top of a small notepad sticking out, a stethoscope, an old pager..

Angel looks normal enough, but something still feels _off_. He just feels.. kind of.. hard to grasp, as if.. he is not quite _real._

“Who..”

Angel lifts his head immediately at Inaho's quiet murmur, stopping whatever he is doing on his tablet to patiently wait for the other to continue, and rests the tablet face down on his lap.

“.. who.. are you..?”

Angel smiles at him, then, another warm, playful smile. “I'm your nurse, Inaho,” he says patiently, clearly not about to voluntarily give up information about himself.

“Angel..”

“Mm? Yes, that's what I asked you to call me,” Angel hums, cocking his head, “Do you need something?”

“Who _are_ you?” Inaho repeats, and Angel's smile slips just a bit. “What's your real name? Why don't you have an ID badge?”

Visibly tensing up, the nurse bites his bottom lip, looking _guilty_ now, as if he is hiding something – he is hiding many, many things, and they both know it – and shakes his head a few times. “I.. can't answer those questions. Please don't ask them,” he says quietly, nails lightly digging into his thigh.

“Why not? I believe I'm fully entitled to know the real name of the person who's been charged with my care. Confidentiality only involves the patient's personal information, not yours.”

“I – because.. I can't,” Angel says haltingly, voice strained now. “I have to go. Please excuse me,” he says after a moment, getting up rather suddenly. He grips his tablet tightly in his hand, turning a bit..

Inaho leans forward immediately, fingertips just barely grazing Angel's wrist, missing him by mere centimetres. “Angel, wait..–”

“Please excuse me,” Angel says again, quickly walking out of the room. He shuts the door behind him, leaving Inaho alone in the bright, white room.

Inaho sits, dumbfounded for a moment, jarred only by the feeling of something cold against his leg. “Oh..” He leans forward a bit, grabbing the plastic container of juice that had spilt, staining the white sheets with dull red. He sets it back down on his tray before he sets it down beside him, shoving the blankets away. The red pools on the sheets, staining the blankets, the mattress..

_He.. was really warm to the touch._

*

_Bright. White. Blurry, but still familiar. Beeping. Incessant beeping._

_Beep.. beep.. beep.._

“ _E-eh..? You're awake?”_

_Masculine. That voice is masculine, unfamiliar.._

No, it's kind of familiar.

“ _You woke up..” the voice says, and he sounds relieved, so, so relieved. “I'm glad.. That was dangerous, you know.. You shouldn't stop in the middle of the street..”_

“ _.. hosp.. ital..”_

“ _Yes, you're in the hospital,” the voice says, and his tone switches to a more gentle one, gentler and softer and full of somewhat familiar kindness.._

_The bed sinks under him a bit, just a bit, and he feels something warm against his forehead, just above his eyebrow._

“ _You've suffered a concussion.. as well as a few minor sprains, and a broken leg. Can you open your eyes for me?”_

_Inaho tries, eyes fluttering against the bright whiteness behind his eyelids; he manages to open them slowly and finds an unfamiliar mess of white and some light, light shade of purple sitting beside him. “Who.. are..?” his voice is soft, strained, broken. His throat hurts, and he feels sort of thirsty, as if he has not drunk anything in hours._

“ _I'm Angel,” the young man introduces himself, “It's very nice to meet you, Inaho. I'm going to be here for you, okay?”_

_Inaho blinks at the other, a blond young man with pale, pale hair and pale skin, all dressed in a shade similar to lavender.. he certainly resembles an angel of some kind, and he seems warm.. warm and kind and the faintest bit familiar.. “An..gel..?” he repeats, the name foreign on his tongue._

“ _Mm. Angel,” the blond repeats, nodding a bit, “Inaho, you can keep a secret, can't you?”_

_Inaho finds himself nodding, slowly, throat still parched; talking, it would seem, is difficult for him at the moment. Forcing himself to speak would only strain him further, and he remembers, faintly, just barely, someone telling him not to hurt himself._

Who was that, again?

“ _Good. Then, if I tell you something, you won't tell anyone?”_

 _Inaho shakes his head 'no'. He wants to trust this person_ – was he my nurse? – _and sees no harm in indulging this adult. Adults, he had been told, often act childish; this person seems to be one of those adults._

“ _Inaho, do you know what I am?”_

Was that a trick question?

“ _You're – you're my nurse,” Inaho answers after a moment, and Angel is blurry again, bright, an unfamiliar mess of white. It.. kind of hurts to look at him._

_Angel shakes his head a bit, and a smile pulls at his lips, warm, familiar again, familiar just like his soft tone and his kind voice. “I'm an angel. Your personal guardian angel. It's my job to keep you safe.”_

*

Inaho raises his head a bit when the door opens, expecting to see Angel, but blinks in surprise upon seeing Yuki and Inko instead, a small bag hanging from Inko's arm. “Yuki-nee.. Inko..” he murmurs, relaxing somewhat. He had been hugging his knees to his chest in an attempt to keep from touching the stain on the bed; it is still dyed red, a sort of crimson shade, and he is not sure if it is still wet or not. It felt cold and unwelcome on his exposed skin – he had only realised after shoving the blanket aside that he is dressed in a hospital _gown_ and not a standard set of pajamas – and he is now cold from the lack of cover.

“We brought you a change of clothes, Inaho!” Inko hums, slowly walking over and setting the bag down on the chair, “The nurse – erm, Angel? – isn't he the one that comes to the café?”

“.. yes, that's him,” Inaho answers slowly, swinging his legs off of the bed. They dangle over the edge, and he is not quite ready to put his bare feet on what he assumes to be freezing cold tile. He _despises_ hospitals; they are _always_ cold, freezing, and it only makes him want to wear sweaters and even more layers than he usually does. “Is he coming back?”

“No? He said you were discharged,” Yuki says, looking a bit confused as she approaches the bed, reaching out to smooth Inaho's hair, “You're getting a few days off to relax at home.”

“What about work..–”

“Mom and dad already said it was fine, Inaho,” Inko insists, shaking her head as she frowns a bit at the brunet, “If you really want to do something, you can help clean up the house. And cook us lunch and dinner.” She knows that Inaho will refuse to just sit around; these are the best options she can give him without him going overboard and making himself pass out again.

Inaho manages a small nod, willing to compromise. No work in exchange for chores around the house. That is perfectly fine. “Alright.”

“Good. Then we'll let you get dressed, and then we'll go.”

*

“.. you so much, taking care of him. We'll make sure he doesn't overexert himself, again.”

“Yes, please do. The way he is, it isn't healthy at all. Please make sure he stays properly hydrated and his blood sugar is at a normal level.”

Inaho raises his head a bit when he exits the room, blinking upon finding Angel speaking with Yuki and Inko, a dazzling, obviously forced smile on his lips.

“I'd suggest things like fruits and lots of cold water, small amounts of juice.. things like that will keep Kaizuka from passing out again,” Angel continues, not having noticed the brunet, yet.

_'Kaizuka'._

For some reason, that stings a little. Angel has never yet referred to him in that way.

“We'll make sure he gets all of that,” Yuki says with a small nod, and Inaho can tell from her tone that she is smiling. It seems to relieve her when people fawn over Inaho, when they display concern and worry – though, it is Angel's _job_ to display such traits – because it shows that they _care_. She worries too much about Inaho's future, more than he worries about it himself.

“And..–” Angel stops suddenly, and his smile falters when his eyes meet Inaho's. He clears his throat and shakes his head a bit, managing another forced smile, “.. and, please make sure he rests. That's all. I'll be going, now.” He bows politely and immediately starts to walk away afterward, practically jogging down the hall before Inaho can muster the strength to go after him.

Inaho stands motionless as he watches the blond disappear, knowing that attempting to catch up with him would only put even more strain on his body.

He will just go home and rest, just as Angel advised. And when he returns to work, he will ask his questions there.

*

“I didn't know he was a nurse,” Inko muses aloud, leaning against the counter across from Inaho as he prepares their dinner; she watches as he slices up vegetables evenly, slowly, into tiny, tiny cubes. The rice is already steaming beside them, filling the kitchen with a humid sort of mist, and it feels warmer than usual with the heater on as well, but Inaho prefers the warm temperature to the chill outside.

“.. neither did I,” Inaho says softly, gently pushing the carrots and onions aside in exchange for pork and beef. He starts to cut them up into even, thin pieces, setting them aside on the cutting board to be seasoned later.. when the rice is nearly done, he can take it out to fry it with the rest of the ingredients. He has a glass of water beside him, nearly empty, and has been sipping from it slowly whenever Inko advises him to; when they had gotten home a few hours ago, they had also made him drink some juice. He already feels a bit better, headache and pain gone, and according to what Angel had told Yuki and Inko, he had not hit the floor hard enough to really injure himself.

“He was really nice,” Inko offers, tone soft as she smiles a bit at her adoptive brother, “He was worried about you.” Leaning forward a bit, she takes a few pieces of raw carrot for herself, smile softening, “Do you think he'll come to see you?”

Inaho blinks, pausing his task for a moment to lift his head and meet her violet eyes – they are filled with mischievous curiosity, and that particular look makes him feel a bit wary. “What are you implying?” he asks quietly, genuinely unaware of what she is getting at. He watches as she purposely pauses, chewing on a few of the smaller cubed carrots, and waits patiently for her to finish and continue. “Inko..” he murmurs, earning a warm smile.

“I think he likes you.”

Tensing up, the brunet finds himself going still, gripping the knife's hilt a bit too tightly. “He..” Inaho clears his throat, shaking his head a bit. “He.. doesn't,” he says after a moment, “You're mistaken.”

*

Gently rubbing his thumb over the tattoo, Angel feels it pulse faintly under his touch, a faint, faint heartbeat right under his thumb, beating slowly. It calms him, a bit, feeling the heartbeat: it means that its owner is still very much alive and breathing, it means that he is doing his job well.

.. well enough that they remain alive, at least. Their mental health, as well as his own, is not assured, and he is certain that it took a blow today, on both ends. _He's.. too inquisitive.. he asks too many questions.._ “This.. is stressful..” he mumbles to himself, pulling his thumb away to gaze at the slow moving line; it really does resemble a hospital heart monitor, except it does not beep incessantly, and..

 _.. and when his heart rate goes up or down suddenly, it hurts,_ he thinks, _I almost passed out when he did.._ The line moves slowly, tiny, tiny bumps along a slow moving beat, _He must be asleep, now.._ He hesitates for a moment, gaze slipping to his arm, pale, still pale in the dim light, and he finds himself frowning, confused. “Why did..” he starts to say aloud, voice quiet, “.. why did.. he think I had.. more than one of these? He's the only one I..”

_.. the.. only one.. I.. –_

“Elis, are you.. – oh..”

Angel lifts his head immediately, not having heard the door open, and finds one of his coworkers standing in the doorway, a young man with dark, dark hair. “Oh.. Inao,” he says, forcing a smile, “Good.. evening? Is it evening?” His hands drop to his lap and he tries to refrain from touching his wrist – one of the other nurses had already implied that he may only do it as a coping mechanism for.. _something_.. much darker than Angel had thought the simple action might point to.

“It's a quarter past eleven,” the dark haired man answers. He shifts his weight a bit, and Angel realises he has some containers with him, vaguely familiar plastic containers in a variety of colours. “Have.. you eaten, Elis? You were watching that patient all last night and well into this afternoon.. and Doctor Saazbaum informed me you had to check on your cousin, afterward?”

“I..” Angel blinks as he gazes at the man, still surprised that people here actually treat him kindly, especially this particular person. The other nurses refer to him as their 'big brother', though they are not actually related.. it must be some sort of cultural difference. “.. I haven't eaten, no,” he says after a moment, shaking his head, “Are you going to eat, Inao? I.. can leave..–”

“I was going to say I've brought you a meal,” the man interrupts, offering the young blond a small smile, “And please, call me Harklight. I don't mind you using my first name.”

Angel nods a bit, slowly getting up. “Y.. yes, of course. Thank you, Harklight. You didn't have to do that,” he whispers, hesitantly walking over to the table. Harklight is someone he is familiar with, just a bit, and he works with him rather frequently, but they have not really had a chance to properly, not when Angel is so busy with.. another person.

Something clicks quietly after a second, and the lights come to life a second after that, illuminating the room with a bright, warm light. He turns his head a bit to find the older nurse staring at him, a mildly surprised look on his features.

“You.. aren't easily fazed, are you?” Harklight questions, slowly walking toward the blond.

Angel blinks, stunned for just a moment, just a second, and then smiles a bit, shaking his head. “No,” he says quietly, “I'm not.”

**

As ordered – and forced to by his sisters – Inaho takes it easy for four days, does simple tasks, eats more fruit, drinks more juice than usual, all so that his blood sugar and electrolytes go back up, just as Angel wants. And today, he is finally back at work, doing what he does best. He disliked not being able to work; it sort of made him feel as if he was not contributing, even if he was instructed not to do anything especially taxing. He was fine in just a day's worth of rest, but Inko and Yuki insisted he take more time off to recuperate.

Leaning against the counter, Inaho rests his head in his hand, gazing out of the window Angel usually sits by – the one where the sunlight comes in bright, brighter than anywhere else in the café, and yet he has noticed that Angel does not seem to squint in the bright sunlight. The snow reflects against the sidewalk, reflects white and shiny and even brighter than usual, but still, Angel does not seem bothered by the light in the least.

Inaho has come to realise he knows practically _nothing_ about Angel – not his real name, not where he is from, not why he is here in Japan.. Angel is an enigma. And his odd insistence not to divulge any information about himself only makes Inaho want to pry even more.

Still, the blond has yet to show up, and Inaho cannot help but wonder if he ever will; they left on an awkward note, after all, and Angel had seemed visibly upset.. If Angel does not come to see him again, he may just have to go back to the hospital. The café is not that busy today, most people are at home, resting after New Years festivities.. that, and many people prefer to go out during the night and visit the shrines. Unfortunately, Inaho had missed New Years evening and the night afterward, due to him being out of commission; Yuki and Inko promised they would all go together on Sunday and visit and pray.

“Make sure to drink more..–” Inko starts to call.

_Ring, ring.._

She stops short when the door opens, and her and Inaho glance over to find a blonde customer letting herself in, talking quietly on her cellphone in a foreign language.

Inaho cannot help but feel disappointed.

**

He does not see Angel for three days.

**

“ _Inaho?”_

_Turning slightly, the brown haired child finds himself gazing at a familiar blur of white. “–––,” he says easily, slowly walking toward him, “You.. were gone. Where were you?”_

_The boy shakes his head a bit, and he looks sort of sad, with the way his eyes_ – they were green, right? blue? what did he say they resembled? – _are glossed, as if he has been crying. “Inaho, I have to go away,” he says, and his tone is quiet, even, careful. His small frame is shaking, trembling, and he looks even more childish now, eyes puffy and red._

“ _Away?” Inaho questions, frowning at the word. He does not like the sound of it. “Where?”_

“ _I'm.. going back north,” the boy says quietly, and he bites his lip now, looking guilty, “I can't stay here, but I'll be able to come back. I don't know when, but I promise I'll come back.” His hands are balled up into tight fists as he grips his sweater, pale knuckles turning pink, then red, then deep red from stress._

_Inaho feels his eyes narrow of their own volition, unable to properly control himself. He is upset. Saddened. Distraught. Worried. He is many, many things, and he is not quite sure why; this boy is his friend, has been for about two years now, but.. this boy is different. He only feels this way around him, as if the boy is going to up and disappear right in front of his eyes, as if he will just suddenly cease to exist._

_And he is not sure why._

“ _You're coming back?”_

“ _Yes,” the boy says, and he nods immediately, a few times, “Yes. I promise. I'm coming back.”_

“ _You won't forget about me?”_

_The boy pauses then, but he does not seem hesitant, something more like surprise. “I.. could never forget about you, Inaho,” he says softly, shaking his head, “But.. it's okay if you forget about me. I'll forgive you.”_

_Inaho blinks at that, the words not quite making sense. “Forget?” he questions, and the way the boy smiles at him is sad again, so, so sad. “Why.. would I forget?” he asks, lowering his own tone so that it matches his friend's, “How could I forget?”_

_The boy seems to calm down a bit and he breathes out, a shaky exhale, a soft exhale, and he continues to smile sadly. “I.. forgive you, Inaho,” he says again, “I promise I'll always be here for you.”_

_Inaho stands still for a moment, blinking again, and his vision blurs after a few moments._

_His eyes burn._

“ _Nao? Who were you talking to?”_

_Inaho brings his hands to his eyes, taken by surprise when he finds that they are leaking hot tears, tears that run down his cheek and leave a hot trail. “Talking..?” He gazes in front of him at the empty space, finding nothing but a few leaves dyed an odd shade of white._

No. Not leaves.

_He gazes at them for a second, wiping the tears from his eyes._

Those are **feathers**.

“ _Nao?”_

_Turning around a bit, Inaho meets his sister's worried gaze, and her eyes only widen further upon realising that her brother is crying._

“ _Nao, what's wrong? What happened? Did you get hurt again?”_

_Inaho shakes his head a bit, confused, dazed. “I.. don't know what I was doing,” he says quietly, and Yuki crouches down to wipe his eyes with her own sleeves, wipe his cheeks. “Yuki-nee, what was I doing?”_

“ _I.. don't know, Nao. It looked like you were talking to someone. Was someone here with you?”_

_Inaho tries to recall, but his memory feels kind of fuzzy, like static on a television. “I think I was talking to a bird.”_

**

“.. like this, see? Inao will walk up and down the hallway with you, and I want you to walk just like that, as straight as you can. If you're in pain, please let Inao know,” Angel says softly, smiling warmly at the older patient, a man who seems to be around fifty or so. “Just up and down, right here, until you get tired, alright? Can you do that for me, _herra_?” he asks, earning a small, patient nod from the man.

“When you get tired, we'll return to your room, Honda,” Harklight murmurs, hand resting at the man's back, “Why don't we start? Remember to let me know if you start to hurt.”

Angel watches patiently as they start to walk away, the sound of the man's padded socks against the tile floor filling the hall, almost kind of sticking to the sanitized floors. He stays motionless for a moment, watching as the duo slowly disappear around the bend of the hall, hugging his tablet to his chest. He glances at his wrist after a second, where his watch is, and hums quietly to himself. “I should get some juice before I get to the next patient..” he murmurs, turning and heading down the opposite end of the hall, where their break room is, “And maybe a snack..” His footsteps are loud in the empty hall, echoey, and the lighting is a bit more dim, here; the blinds along the windows are shut, drawn, and little bits of sunset-coloured sunlight peek through the filters. “Twenty-two o'seven.. the patients will be asleep soon, and..” He glances at his wrist again, where his faint, faint tattoo lies hidden under his thin, metal watch band.

 _He isn't asleep, yet,_ he realises, watching as it moves slowly, regularly, though not slow enough to signal a sleeping cycle, _He must be relaxing.. reading a book, maybe..?_

“Oh, well..” he mumbles, shaking his head, “His heart rate has been regular.. at least he took my advice..” He stops in front of a door, slowly turning the handle and letting himself in, “How annoying..”

“What's annoying?”

Lifting his head, Angel feels his heart rise to his throat upon seeing who is standing at the window, a bowl full of orange slices in hand. He considers leaving, right then, just turning and shutting the door behind him, but realises how rude that would be. “Inaho..” he says after a moment, swallowing, “Why are you.. in here..?”

“I told the receptionist downstairs that I was coming in for a checkup. A nurse let me come wait in here for you,” Inaho says easily, gaze not leaving Angel's. He tightens his grip on the bowl somewhat, bringing a slice to his lips and chewing on it slowly.

“.. lying.. is a sin, you know..” the nurse mumbles, and shuts the door behind himself, leaning against it.

Inaho pauses for a moment, swallowing the acidic piece of fruit before be answers the other. “I.. didn't lie,” he says softly, keeping his own tone even and low, “Before I checked out, they said I had to come back for a checkup.. and since you were the nurse in charge of my care..”

Angel's gaze slips to the floor. “Oh.”

They stay quiet for a few moments, Angel seeming unwilling to speak, and Inaho not about to push him as he had done before.

No, he does not want to push him. He missed his presence in the café, had gotten used to seeing him nearly daily these past few months.

Instead of pushing him, he..

“I want to apologise to you.”

Lifting his head almost immediately at the statement, Angel's blue-green eyes widen a bit in surprise. His grip tightens on his tablet, knuckles turning a light shade of pink. “A.. apologise..?” he echoes, still startled, confused, “For.. for what?”

“For.. upsetting you,” Inaho says slowly, tone careful, “When I asked you those questions before, it.. upset you, and I realise that now. I hadn't considered your personal feelings at the time. It was.. rude, of me to.. to try and pry. And for that I apologise.” His tone is still slow, careful, hesitant now, and it seems he really is trying to apologise in his own way, even if he is not used to it.

Angel gazes at the other for a moment, still seeming startled by the sudden apology, though he manages to straighten himself, back now resting flat against the door instead of leaning against it and holding it shut. “You..” he starts to say, tone too soft. He clears his throat quietly, shaking his head. “You.. won't do it again, will you..? Ask me.. questions I can't answer..?” he asks, though his voice still comes out a bit shaky, still soft.

_Because.. if you ask, I.. have to push you away, again.._

“I won't,” Inaho answers, “Will you.. come back to the café?”

Nodding a bit, the nurse exhales shakily, seeming relieved. “I.. I'll come back to see you, yes,” he murmurs, lightly biting his bottom lip. “Inaho..?”

“Yes?”

“.. thank you. For apologising, I mean.. thank you.”

*

“Have you been eating fruits and drinking juice?” Angel questions, glancing upward occasionally; he still has that tablet of his in his hands, and seems to be currently using it to make note of all of Inaho's answers, using that instead of a chart or a paper document, or even the small notepads that are still sticking out from his pockets.

Inaho remains gazing up at the other, trying to catch his eyes – so far, it has not worked. “I've eaten at least one fruit a day and I've been drinking two glasses of apple or orange juice a day,” he answers quietly, keeping his tone even.

“Store bought?”

“I.. made it at the café, with fresh fruit,” the brunet answers, shaking his head a bit, “Store bought juice.. has too much sugar and artificial sweeteners..”

Humming quietly at that, Angel jots that down on the tablet's notepad, “Alright.. You never did really like artificially sweet things..”

Inaho blinks at the inaudible mumble, cocking his head, “What? I didn't hear you.”

Angel raises his head almost immediately, looking flustered. “Nothing,” he says quickly, shaking his head a few times – once, twice, and then again, looking nervous. “I.. I was talking to myself.” He forces a smile and sets his tablet down, screen down against the table, and pulls at his stethoscope, inserting the buds into his ear, “A-anyway.. let me take your heart rate. Please unbutton your shirt a bit.”

Inaho does as instructed, a bit taken aback by the blond's reaction. He cannot help but jump a bit when Angel presses the diaphragm to his chest, the circular, metal tool _freezing_ against this skin, and looks up a bit to find Angel biting back a smile. “What?” he asks, tone far more blunt than he had intended it to be.

The tone does not seem to put Angel off in the least. Rather, it seems to amuse him even more. “You really don't like the cold, do you?” he teases, keeping his tone low as he searches for Inaho's heartbeat. “Ah, here. Breathe in,” he says, staying still as the brunet does just that, “.. okay, breathe out.” He nods a bit and presses the diaphragm instead to Inaho's neck, “Again.”

Inaho does as instructed once more, breathing in quietly, slowly, and then exhales.

“Alright.. heartbeat is regular,” Angel murmurs, pulling away, “How many glasses of water have you drunk since you fainted?” He picks up his tablet again and pulls the buds out of his ears, letting the stethoscope rest around his neck, starting to type once more.

“I've been drinking ten a day.”

“.. okay.. that's.. ten..”

Inaho goes quiet once again, still gazing up at the other, still trying to catch his eyes.

Blue-green. Blue-green. Blue.. green.. kind of like.. when the sky meets the ground, the moss in the water, the stones they had been researching in class. Blue-green.

 _Why is that.. familiar..?_ Inaho wonders, head starting to ache a bit. He presses a hand gently to the side of his head, shutting his eyes, _Why is he familiar?_

“Alright, so.. – Inaho?” Angel blinks upon seeing the brunet clutching at his head and leans down a bit, pulling at his hand, “What's wrong? Are you alright?” Setting the tablet back down, he gently pulls at Inaho's hand again, trying to see if perhaps he had hurt his head.

Inaho manages to catch his eyes, then, Angel's bright, _familiar_ , blue-green eyes, and his breath halts. _That's why you're familiar,_ he realises.

There was a person, a friend, with eyes like Angel's – a friend whom he had known years and years ago in elementary school, a friend who..

_Who.. what?_

“Inaho?”

Shaking his head a bit, Inaho tries to sort through his thoughts and memories. He had known a.. _a boy, right?_ years ago, a nice, kind boy who had been one of his closest friends in elementary school, a boy who he had known for about three years, before..

_Before.. what?_

He had known that boy for three years, almost, before.. _before he.. moved away? Is that what had happened? He moved away?_

It hurts to think about, the dull ache in his head gradually growing stronger, and he shuts his eyes again, trying to ignore the growing pain behind his eyes. It feels kind of like an allergy headache, dull, but painful, present.

The boy had moved away, he thinks. His childhood memories are still foggy, vague, but he knows there was a boy, and that they were close, and..

_.. and.. he visited me, in the hospital, when I.._

“Inaho?” Angel calls a third time, finally drawing the brunet from his thoughts.

The worry on his features is surprising, the concern and almost _fear_ present in his eyes catches Inaho off-guard.

They stare at each other for a few moments, in silence, and the faint ticking of the clock gradually grows louder and louder with each passing second, incessant, loud _annoying_ –

“You're Elis Vers Allusia,” Inaho finally says, the memory resurfacing. He raises his head a bit, watches as the pale pink colour in the blond's face drains away slowly, leaving the blond before him practically a _ghost_ , as white as a sheet of paper. He adjusts himself a bit on the cot, the sheets moving with him, slipping off the side. “.. Elis?” he calls, causing the nurse to shake his head.

“You – you weren't supposed to..–” The nurse's voice is high, loud, _panicked_ , and he shakes his head vehemently, as if trying to refute Inaho's statement, trying to push it away. He takes a few steps backward, footsteps quiet in the room, quiet but clumsy, and the small of his back meets the counter. “You were supposed to forget about me,” he finally says, voice just barely above a whisper, “You.. you were supposed to forget.”

“Why?” Inaho asks quietly, confused. “We were close. I considered you my closest friend.”

“Because – because I left,” the blond says, and he sounds _guilty_ now, “I left you behind. You were supposed to forget.”

Inaho gazes at the other, caught off-guard. _That's the only reason?_ he wonders, something not seeming to add up.

“Leaving you was – it was _hard_. Do you know what what.. what that does to children? It's _traumatic_ , and I.. I just.. wanted you to forget about me, instead..”

_Oh._

Inaho feels his breath catch, realising that this whole time, the blond had only been thinking about _Inaho's_ feelings rather than focusing on his own. He _cried_ , he vaguely remembers being upset for a few days sometime after summer break had started, and vaguely recalls Yuki telling him that as a child, he had been more temperamental.

Elis leaving was indeed upsetting. Traumatising. As he does not remember his true parents, the loss of a close friend had been terrible for him, he did not know how to properly deal with it.

“But you promised me you'd come back,” Inaho points out, the memory still kind of fuzzy, muddled, but he distinctly remembers Elis had promised to return. “You promised, and you're here, now. You came back,” he points out again, and the blond raises his head, then, blue-green eyes a bit red, glossy, “You kept your promise, Elis.”

The statement only causes the blond's eyes to gloss over further, and he breathes out shakily, rubbing his eyes, “I.. I'm sorry..”

“It's alright. I forgive you.”

**

“.. eh? 'Elis'? Who are you talking..” Inko trails off as she ponders the name, gently tapping her chopsticks against her lips as she tries to recall why the name seems so familiar.

Inaho remains quiet as she thinks about it, taking small sips from his glass of apple juice, having already had a few snacks; he intends to eat dinner at a later time, but prepared his family's in advance so they could have it at their usual time.

“Oh!” Inko suddenly gasps, lighting up, “You're talking about that boy from elementary school – the one you had a crush on!”

Swallowing the juice before he can choke on it, Inaho brings a hand to his mouth, pressing the back of his hand against his lips, trying to hide his surprise. “I.. I did not have a crush on him,” he says as evenly as he can, though his voice wavers with uncertainty.

“You did,” Inko says, beaming, “The blond boy, right? The one who kept coming to visit you in the hospital?”

Inaho blinks at that, taken by surprise. “He.. what?”

“You don't remember?”

“I thought you didn't remember most of our childhood, either,” Inaho points out, shaking his head slightly; the memories he has are still foggy, extremely vague, and he cannot remember a time Elis had visited him, or if he had even _been_ in the hospital. He vaguely remembers _going_ to the hospital, but whether or not he had been a patient is.. sketchy, at best.

“Well, I don't, but.. how could I forget the boy you had a crush on?” Inko retorts, frowning slightly at her adoptive brother, “I think.. you were in the hospital a few times because of some accidents. Didn't you fall out of a tree, one time?”

“.. did I?” Inaho asks, glancing at his arm. _If I did, surely I would have broken at least my wrist, or my arm, but.. I don't remember my arm being damaged badly in any way,_ he thinks to himself, the thought somewhat unnerving.

She nods a bit, though a frown still rests on her features, and she lowers her chopsticks, poking at her sushi. “I.. never actually met him, but I think.. you spent most of your time with him, didn't you?” she questions, and Inaho's gaze slips then, head starting to ache again.

“Maybe,” Inaho murmurs, unsure, now.

Elis was his best friend.. _right?_ And if he visited him in the hospital – if Inaho _was in the hospital_ – he should remember. But his memories are still foggy, and he could not even realise that 'Angel' was Elis until just a few days ago, so perhaps his memories are not something to be trusted or relied on.

“Why are you asking about him, anyway?”

 _Oh, right_.

“Do you remember the blond nurse who took care of me?”

“What.. about him?”

“That's Elis.”

*

_A crush._

The shadows on Inaho's ceiling grow longer and longer as the night drags on, as the moon soars higher and higher into the sky; they are thin, branch-like and devoid of leaves or pines, and the wind rustles them quietly, slightly. He cannot remember ever finding them scary, though recalls vaguely that he thought they looked like fingers when he was a child, spindly fingers, long and thin, sort of like a skeleton's.

He likes watching the shadows crawl across his ceiling, often falls asleep to it, but..

_A crush, on Elis, she says._

Sitting up slowly, Inaho exhales quietly, breath coming out as a warm, white fog in front of him. “It's cold..” he mumbles, gently rubbing his nose, feeling the chill of his skin even through his thick sweater.

Yuki or Inko must have messed with the heater again – they say that twenty-six degrees is far too hot, but they continuously forget that his room, in the back near their back porch, grows the coldest as it is the furthest away from the heater.

“.. maybe.. Calm will let me stay in his apartment..” he muses, thinking it better if he simply leaves or gets more blankets, not wanting to inconvenience his family, wake them up with too much heat inside of the house. He slowly slides off of the bed, the cold hardwood floors assaulting his feet even through his socks, and starts to cross over to his closet, padded footsteps near-silent in his room. His shoes lie neatly in front of it, his school shoes, and he supposes it might be best to just go ahead and use these ones to make his escape – they are just lying _right there_ , after all, and starts to pull them on, listening to the leather heel tap quietly against the floorboards, and he remains still for a few moments once he has them on, watching his breath still form a white mist before him, wispy, foggy.

“It's cold,” he repeats, slowly walking over to his window, fingers clumsily managing to undo the cold metal latch; the metal is freezing against his fingertips, and he starts to take in a deep breath.. and hesitantly heaves himself up and over the window's edge, foot landing against his frosted porch. His heel lingers against the frosted porch for a few moments, the wood icy, and he manages to find his footing –

– just before his foot slips, and he dives head first onto the icy porch.

*

Elis hums happily to himself as he gazes at the tattoo on his wrist, feeling it pulse faintly in his wrist, slowly, but not slow enough to indicate sleep; it seems he is relaxing, at this moment. He adjusts himself somewhat in the armchair, pressing his side further against the pillow at his side. _I wonder why he's still awake,_ he muses, _Perhaps he's having a hard time falling asleep? He did have a headache earlier.. and he didn't let me give him medicine.._

His happy mood falters, just for a moment, and he shakes his head a bit, pushing the negative thoughts away.

Inaho forgives him. He forgives him for leaving, and that is what matters most right now. They can rekindle their childhood friendship, catch up on all the years that they had lost.

Elis is not quite sure _how_ Inaho had managed to remember, but he had, and he cannot really take that away from him now, so.. the most logical step is to continue forward like this, _right?_ To become friends once more, to spend more time together..

 _And this way, I'll be able to watch him a bit more, too. He is accident prone, after all.._ he thinks to himself, the thought mildly unnerving; Inaho's visits to the hospital are a bit too frequent than Elis would prefer them, but none of them have been particularly harmful or life-threatening as of yet. “It's almost midnight,” he mumbles, adjusting himself once more, letting his feet rest in his shoes as he slips them on again, his small break over, “I'll check up on him tomorrow, at the café.. perhaps he..–”

Stopping suddenly, Elis remains still as a sharp pain shoots down his arm and to his wrist, pulsating slowly, painfully just under his tattoo. “O-ow..” he hisses, gently rubbing the tattoo with his thumb, trying to soothe the sudden pain, “What.. what happened?”

_Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba.. dum.. ba.. dum.. ba.._

“Oh..” Elis inhales sharply, starting to panic. _His heart rate is slowing down,_ he realises, shaking his head a few times, trying to blink back the sudden wave of pain in his head; it feels like someone had just hit him over the back of the head, with a rod or a bat, _and it hurts_. “Stay awake. Stay awake..” he tells himself, vision slowly blurring, fading to black as he loses consciousness, “Stay.. awa–..”

Everything goes black.

*

Perhaps choosing to be a nurse was not such a good idea.

It _seemed_ like a good idea at the time – _“Your father's a doctor,”_ they had said, _“The best in his field! Doctor Áki is an amazing doctor! Don't you want to follow in his footsteps?”_

But his father was not a doctor _doctor_. He earned that title studying all types of science for most of his life, up until he died when he hit thirty.

Doctor Áki, the amazing doctor of plants. He had known everything about plants: their biology, how to keep them in certain climates, how to grow them properly, how to force them to grow in certain shapes, how to maximize life-span, how to maximize fruit and vegetable yield, how to do just about anything with them.

Doctor Áki, the plant specialist, the science specialist, but not _Doctor_ Doctor Áki.

Choosing to be a nurse was a reflex; he had wanted to _help_ people, to keep _that person_ safe, but now he has to deal with all sorts of things that he had not really been expecting to deal with: other nurses, _doctor_ doctors, _patients_..

He had just wanted to keep _that person_ safe, but he does enjoy being a nurse. People here are kind, kinder than they had been back home, and they treat him as one of their own when he is not busy running around the hospital in the middle of the night. They do not hurt him, they do not consider him a burden..

And, of course, the title fits. Nurses are often called angels – angels of mercy, angels of helping, angels of death – and they more often than not _help_ , like angels are _supposed_ to do, so it fits.

 _It fits,_ Elis supposes, blinking his heavy eyes awake, vision nothing but a vaguely familiar blur of white.

 _It fits,_ he supposes, listening to the incessant low beeping in his ears, purposely low, the beeping lower than usual; it seems Harklight recalled that he dislikes the sound and changed the setting for him. _Thank you, Harklight._

 _It fits,_ he supposes, slowly moving his fingers, feeling the heartbeat monitor on his index, taped this time; he hears the familiar crinkle of tape when he flexes his fingers.

 _But my job is to keep_ him _safe, after all,_ he thinks to himself, gently pressing his palm against the mattress, ruffling the sheets under him as he sits up, the dull, ringing pain in his head still present, still there, a painful reminder that he does indeed have a job to do. “I just wish..” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, “.. wish that.. this _job_ didn't come with side-effects..” He allows his vision to adjust, slowly, and manages to pull off the tape from his hand and the IV that had been under it, watches as water drips off of the point for a few moments before setting it down and removing the cuff on his finger, the tape crinkling again, a bit loud over the quiet, beeping monitor.

It flat-lines, almost immediately, and Elis has to remind himself to move a bit faster before someone comes in to check up on him, before they try and get him to stay here when he _knows_ he has to be out there, protecting _that person_.

Gently rubbing his thumb over his tattoo, Elis feels his heart rise to his throat upon the pulse barely being there, beating so slowly, so faintly, so _weakly_ , some people would not consider it a pulse at all. “How long was I out?” he wonders aloud, and his vision blurs again, blurs with hot, hot tears.

 _Oh.._ Elis shakes his head a bit, blinking the tears away, _He's scared.._

“I.. need to go, now.”

*

_The sheet of paper before him lies blank, empty, devoid of even his name that goes at the top, the date that goes under it, and the assignment name that goes under that._

_Inaho.. has absolutely no idea what to write down._

_'About me', was the homework assignment, but he had been unable to complete it, even with three days given in advance, and now he sits in his quiet, empty classroom all by himself, struggling to come up with something of substance._

“ _What's wrong, Inaho?” a familiar voice asks, concerned, soft, low._

_Raising his head a bit, Inaho finds himself gazing at a blond teenager dressed in a similar uniform to his own – except the blond's is coloured white and light, light blue, and he looks kind of like a cloud, dressed that way._

_Or, more poetically, he looks kind of like an_ **angel** _._

“ _I can't.. finish my homework,” Inaho murmurs, eyes lingering on the blond's blue-green ones, searching them – as usual, they are filled with nothing but warmth, affection, and Inaho has to remind himself that this person may not even feel anything remotely close to affection for him, that he may only be kind out of the obvious goodness in his heart._

_And, well.._

_.. he is not even sure if this person actually_ **exists** _._

“ _You.. have to write about yourself?” the blond asks quietly, gesturing to the syllabus beside the blank sheet, “Why are you having trouble with that? You're smart, talented..” His voice is so, so soft, so sweet, so light, airy as he compliments Inaho._

_Compliments. Genuine ones._

“ _Do you truly think that?”_

_The blond blinks, looking taken aback by the question. “Of course I do,” he says, “I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't believe it myself.”_

_Inaho gazes at the other for a moment, heart dull in his chest, pained. “Are you real?”_

“ _Wh..we've discussed this already, Inaho,” the blond says. Hurt flickers across his features, and he pulls away from the table, thumb gently rubbing against his own wrist, soothing the skin there; Inaho has seen it before, and it appears to be marked with a tattoo of some kind, zig-zagging lines. “Of course I'm real,” he whispers, and the way his eyes gloss over only hurts Inaho's heart more, causes it to sink down to his stomach, “I.. wish you would believe me. I.. I only want to.. to help you, Inaho..”_

_His voice is so soft, so hurt._

_Inaho looks away from him._ I only started seeing him when I started taking that medication.. _he thinks to himself,_ Why wouldn't I doubt him? That, and no one else seems to be able to see him..

“ _I.. think you should rest, Inaho. I'll wake you up in an hour, okay?” the blond asks, and there are still glossy tears in his eyes, voice low, shaky. He leans forward a bit, forcing a smile as he gently smooths the back of Inaho's hand with his thumb, “Rest. Okay?”_

_Inaho nods after a moment, gaze slipping down to their hands._

_The other is warm. Always impossibly warm, and kind, and sweet and_ **genuine** _._

“ _I'll.. I'll rest. I'm sorry,” he murmurs, burying his face in his arms, shutting his eyes._

“ _.. it's.. alright, Inaho. I.. I forgive you..”_

*

 _When Inaho wakes up to the quiet sound of a piano_ – is that a piano? it sounds different, it sounds kind of like a harp – _he is confused for a few moments, dazed. It takes him a second to realise that the sound is coming from his phone, which sits perilously at the edge of his desk, screen lit up and turned on, displaying a clock and a timer._

“ _Oh,” he murmurs, slowly sitting up, turning the music off._

_That must have been his friend. All of the alarms Inaho sets have standard sounds, set to default unless someone else messes with the settings._

_It must have been his friend, but.._

_.. the blond is nowhere in sight._

_The classroom is quiet, silent now, still empty, dimly lit with the sun's setting rays flickering in through the blinds. It colours the room an orangish shade, orangish pink, and it looks kind of nice, like this, the light not too harsh, soft, warm._

_Inaho allows his gaze to slip downward to his paper, blinking when he sees that it is almost completely filled out._

_The paper reads simply enough, in standard, neat, familiar Japanese handwriting, and Inaho finds his heart rising to his throat as he slowly reads through it._

_'My name is Kaizuka Inaho, and I feel happiest when I'm around my friends and family.'_

*

“Mmn..” Inaho groans weakly, stirring awake, and everything is white, again. Bright, bright white against his _closed_ eyes, blinding enough that he can see the lights even with his eyes _closed_ , and it is so bright, it is almost _painful_. He slowly manages to raise his arm, feels something against his arm, brushing against his bare skin – _a blanket?_ – something warm, soft..

Exhausted, he allows his arm to rest back down against what he assumes is a bed under him, and his eyes still feel heavy, too heavy, and he hears that annoying beeping again, that incessant, low beeping somewhere beside his head.

 _What happened to me?_ he wonders, unable to remember, _I was at home, and then.. and then what..?_

He sighs softly, too tired to open his eyes, too tired to think, too out of it. Perhaps he will feel better the next time he wakes up.

*

When Inaho wakes up again, the light is dimmer behind his eyelids, much dimmer and far more easy on his drowsy eyes, and he actually manages to open his eyes this time. Before him is a painfully familiar white ceiling, a ceiling strewn with lights, dimmed lights, and they are kind of fuzzy before his eyes, the surrounding lights around them blurry.

 _Hospital,_ he realises after a moment, mind slow, _I'm in the hospital._

There is a dull ache in his head, low, somewhere above his forehead, near his eyebrows and hair, and he slowly raises his arm, feeling a small cuff on his little finger – _the heart monitor_ , he realises – and his hand feels heavy, his movements slowed. _That must be the effect of the medication,_ he tells himself, managing to bring his fingers to his forehead, feeling the gauze and bandages against his fingertips, but not quite able to feel it on him at the moment. The surrounding area is numb, kind of, fuzzy like the lights above him. _I.. fell out of a window, didn't I?_ he wonders, trying to recall what had happened, _It.. was cold, and.._

Ah, that was what had happened.

He had gone to see Calm, and.. he had ended up slipping when he tried to go out the window. He had slipped on his icy porch and hit his head.

_Hard._

It.. had hurt, and someone inside must have heard him.. which is how he must have ended up in the hospital..

“Hnn..”

Inaho freezes up at the quiet sigh, caught off-guard.

Is that Yuki? Inko?

His parents?

He manages to turn his head just a bit, and his breath catches upon finding a blur of blond and white at his side, a vaguely familiar mass.

“Elis,” he whispers, trying to reach out and stretch his fingers on his other hand, fingertips just barely grazing Elis' hair, “Elis..?”

His voice is weak in his throat, shaky, low, parched, and he is suddenly very aware of how thirsty and scratchy his throat feels.

“El–..” he tries again, his voice dying out just before he finishes.

_I.. can't.._

Inaho gazes at the nurse for a few moments, vision trying to adjust to his bright figure, and he realises that Elis is also wearing a gown, the light, light blue gown that patients wear. _Why? What happened to him?_ he wonders, the thought troubling, upsetting.

Elis is a nurse, so surely he should be in good condition, right..? He should be healthy, right?

 _Unless he had an accident,_ his mind offers, and Inaho shakes his head somewhat, disregarding it. He allows his fingers to brush through Elis' hair, and Elis sighs again, voice low, soft, quiet, and Inaho finds himself starting to fall asleep again, the medication still in his system.

_I.. suppose I'll ask.. in the morning, then.._

*

“ _Congratulations, Inaho!”_

_Spinning around at the sudden shout, Inaho finds himself taken by complete surprise when he feels arms around his neck, a familiar warmth bubbling in his chest._

“ _You're graduating! I'm so happy for you!”_

_Inaho holds his breath when the other pulls away, heart catching when he meets a pair of familiar blue-green eyes belonging to his closest friend. “Thank you,” he forces himself to say, and his mouth is suddenly dry, and it is suddenly hard to speak over the lump in his throat._

“ _I'm invited, aren't I? I get to see you graduate, don't I?” the blond asks eagerly, expectantly, and the way his eyes are lit up, the way he is smiling, kind of reminds Inaho of a shining star._

A beautiful star.

“ _Yes,” Inaho says immediately, nodding. Because even if he had to say no to the blond, he does not think he would be able to_ – _he likes the other far too much to tell him no._

“ _Thank you,” the blond hums, beaming now. He pulls away just a bit more and loosely grips Inaho's hands, smoothing the back of them with his thumbs, “Would you like a gift, Inaho? What do you want to do, afterward? Dinner? A movie? We'll do whatever you want_ – _it'll be your gift for graduating.”_

_Inaho hesitates, then, knowing the blond means well, but the thought of going out with him in what he assumes will be a purely non-romantic way, it.. it troubles him. “I have a gift for you, actually,” he finally says, and the blond blinks, taken aback._

“ _You.. do? But.. you're the one who's graduating..” the blond murmurs, frowning somewhat._

“ _It's small, and it's a thank you for helping me throughout my high school career,” Inaho says, pulling a hand away to dig through his pocket, fingers finding the thin, cool circular object hidden inside. He hesitates again, gaze slipping to the floor underneath them, and the polished tile is shiny, reflective, and –_

And he probably won't understand the meaning behind this. So give it to him.

“ _Here,” Inaho says, pulling out the object and holding it out in front of the blond's face, “I.. want you to have this. From me to you.”_

_The blond blinks, surprised, and takes it with his free hand, turning it over and allowing it to catch the light. “Is.. this a button?”_

*

“.. go rest, Elis. In a real bed, in your room..”

Inaho stirs a bit, managing to open his eyes just enough to find Elis standing at the doorway, still dressed in his hospital gown, and he can see those feathery tattoos again, all along his exposed arms and legs and the back of his neck.. They are still wispy, extremely faint against Elis' pale skin, but they are there, along his skin, decorating him, the feathery tattoos a sort of pretty adornment.

And, this time, he can see a thin, thin silver chain along the back of Elis' neck, hanging rather low, and he supposes it might have been hidden by his uniform before, the collar having been just a bit higher.. And most of Elis' shirts and sweaters keep his neck insulated..

“I'm staying here, Harklight,” Elis says, shaking his head a bit, “I need to monitor him. What if he wakes up and needs something?”

“Then he'll use the remote. I thought you said he's been in the hospital often?” Harklight, seemingly the owner of the other voice, says. He sounds mildly annoyed, bothered, and Inaho wonders if perhaps he may dislike the fact that Elis intends on staying here.

“Well, yes, he has, but that isn't the point,” Elis insists, and he sounds almost hurt, the way his soft voice rises just a bit, “My job is to care for him, and I'm going to do exactly that.”

“Elis..–”

“Harklight, please,” Elis murmurs, and he sounds upset now, “Let me do my job. I'm fine. Truly.”

Harklight sighs, but relents, and Inaho shuts his eyes again just in case the other glances over at him, feigning sleep. “Very well. Please page me if you need anything,” he murmurs, and Inaho hears footsteps afterward, and then the sounds of Elis' bare feet tapping quietly against the tile floor.

“You.. really are an idiot, Inaho..” Elis mumbles, and Inaho feels the other's hands on one of his own, Elis' thumb smoothing the back of his hand, “Trying to go out the window in the middle of the night, when everything is frosted over.. What were you thinking..?”

Inaho remains silent, limp, and tries his best to feign sleep with Elis right beside him.

“I'm going to help you get better. I.. don't like seeing you in the hospital, so often..” Elis mumbles, “You're going to be okay, Inaho.. I'll make sure of it, this time..”

 _.. this time..?_ Inaho wonders, the thought somewhat unsettling; had something happened when they were children?

“I'll be right here when you wake up.. Taking care of you.. is the least I can do, for having hurt you so much.”

And right then, Inaho feels drowsiness overtake him again, still feels Elis' thumb smoothing his hand, but suddenly the blond's voice is so very far away, and..

_Go back to sleep._

*

“.. Elis, aren't you? Inaho said that you were his childhood friend?”

The familiar, feminine voice rouses Inaho awake once more, the lights in the room juts a bit brighter than they had been before, brighter but not unbearable, not painful.

“Y.. yes, I'm Elis, _Dama_ Amifumi. I.. spent most of my time at school with him..”

“It's so nice to meet you!” Inko hums, “Well, I mean – it's nice to _meet_ meet you, for real this time.. Inaho talked about you practically nonstop when we were kids. He was completely head-over-heels for you.”

“A-ah..”

Inaho sits up at that, as best he can. “Inko, please..” he calls weakly, throat still parched, voice shaky, and he thinks if he continues to speak, his voice will die out again.

Elis blinks, looking over Inko's shoulder to meet Inaho's eyes, though his gaze almost immediately slips to the floor.

Inaho gazes at the two of them, noting just how red Elis' face is, how his usually pale cheeks are dusted with a heavy blush. And.. he notices the feathery tattoos along his skin, again, all over his arms and his legs and his collarbone and –

 _Is he.. wearing a necklace?_ Inaho wonders, blinking when he sees a thin, barely noticeable silver chain around Elis' neck, the rest of it hidden by his gown, _Has he always worn that? His usual clothing makes it hard to tell.._

Visibly lighting up, Inko makes her way over to Inaho's side, leaning against the bed, “How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt? You were bleeding when we found you..” She seems relieved, but anxious, upset, and her light violet eyes are filled with worry.

“I feel medicated.”

Elis clears his throat softly, causing the duo to look back at him, and he says quietly, “I'll.. erm.. be back, after I change, alright? I'll check on your vitals and your state, then..”

“.. alright,” Inaho murmurs, nodding somewhat, watching as the nurse bows politely. His gaze lingers on the other, noting the necklace seems to be circular, a circular object pressed against his light blue gown.

Elis straightens himself after a moment, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind him, leaving the two siblings alone.

Inaho and Inko remain quiet for a few more moments before the brunet lifts his head, dark, dark brown catching light violet. “Do you.. remember high school, Inko?”

*

Elis blinks in surprise upon seeing Inko crouched in front of a vending machine, just outside of the area that they set aside for waiting families – a sort of rest area, he knows, but he is rarely ever in there – with a few cans and bags filled with snacks. “.. Amifumi?” he calls, hesitantly approaching her.

Inko lifts her head a bit, relaxing upon seeing that it is only Elis. “Oh, hello. I see you've gotten changed?” she asks, smiling somewhat up at the nurse, “I was getting some food for Inaho. He said he was hungry.”

“Oh, erm..” Elis shifts his weight a bit, smiling sheepishly back at her, “I was actually going to get him some breakfast from the cafeteria.. it's free, since he's a patient..” He trails off quietly, feeling somewhat embarrassed at not having mentioned it earlier.

Inko blinks, and then nods somewhat, “You're right, I've.. heard of that before, I think.. the last time he was in the hospital, a nurse mentioned that..” Her voice goes soft, almost inaudible, and she remains motionless for a few moments, seemingly trying to remember where she had heard that from.

“Erm, Amifumi?” Elis calls, and she snaps out of her daze, light violet widening just a bit.

“Yes?”

“About – about Inaho..” Elis says haltingly, hesitant, “Has he.. mentioned head pain, at all? From before this, I mean. Or has he mentioned having trouble remembering things?”

Inko stands up, then, “How did you know that?”

“Oh, erm, he.. he mentioned it before, when he came in for his checkup,” Elis says quickly, waving off the fact with a clumsy smile and his hand, “I was just worried – that he may be in more pain, you know?”

“Right, he..mentioned that, I think..” Inko murmurs, nodding somewhat. She hugs the snacks and drinks to her chest, cradling them in her arms as she gazes at the nurse, looking somewhat confused and dazed, as if she is having trouble recalling what she had been doing. “Elis, do you like jewelry?” she suddenly asks, and Elis blinks at the question, completely taken aback by the change in topic.

“I.. I suppose I might?” Elis answers, though it sounds more like a question the way he says it.

“Do you wear any?” Inko asks, carefully brushing back a tuft of her own hair to reveal some dangly earrings, “Inaho wants to buy you a gift to thank you for all you've done for him, but he doesn't know your taste.. and I don't think he's going to ask you. You know how he is.” She smiles a bit, clumsy, sheepish, and Elis suddenly understands exactly what she means.

Inaho would probably come up with some roundabout way of figuring out what to buy as a gift, the hard way.

“I, erm, only wear this,” Elis says, pulling at the silver chain from under his uniform shirt. He holds it up for her to see, smiling somewhat back at her, “It was, erm, a gift. It's just a button..”

Indeed it is. A rather large, brown, shiny button that has been meticulously kept clean, polished.. It seems Elis had looped the thin chain carefully through each of the four button holes, making a small silver 'X' in the middle.

“Ah. Well, um, that isn't much to go on..” Inko says, “What should I tell him?”

“Erm..” Elis blinks, allowing the necklace to rest against his chest as he thinks. “Well, erm.. my favourite colour is red.. Does that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you, Elis,” Inko hums, beaming at him. “Would you mind getting Inaho's breakfast? And I'll tell him while you're out.”

“Sure,” Elis agrees easily, nodding a bit, “I'm happy to help, Amifumi.”

*

_He can still hear his voice, sometimes._

_Lingering in his head, calling him, using that soft, affectionate tone he had grown used to, offering him compliments, words of advice, helpful things, but.._

_It hurts._

_Inaho eyes the medicine in the bottles before him, the dull ache in his head telling him to take them, the empty hollow in his chest telling him he needs them, but the voice does not help, does not help at all, and he just wants it to go away._

_He_ **needs** _it to go away._

_Shaking his head a bit, Inaho pours the bottle down the drain, listening to the pills clatter a bit too loudly around in the metal basin, and he does the same to the next bottle, and then the third._

_And when the last pill tumbles out of the ugly orange bottle, his heart rises to his throat, and it reminds him of the day after graduation, when his best friend had jumped off of the roof of the school._

*

“Inaho, I..”

Lifting his head a bit, Inaho finds himself gazing at the blond nurse who stands in the doorway, looking a bit surprised.

“Your sister isn't with you?” Elis asks, blinking a few times as he gazes around the room, settling his gaze on the brunet, who is currently messing with a cellphone. He steps in slowly, adjusting the tray a bit in his hands, shutting the door quietly behind him – the sound it makes is dull as the trigger slips into its hold, dull when Elis lets go of the handle and allows it to return to its normal position, and even his footsteps are almost silent in the quiet room.

“Since I'm awake, she's gone to get Yuki-nee and our parents,” Inaho answers automatically, the answer almost.. _rehearsed_. It feels a bit odd on his tongue, leaves him feeling unfamiliar and a bit confused, but he knows now why the feeling is there. He allows the phone to lock itself and lets it lie on his lap, the screen now empty and black, and is silent as Elis sets the tray down on the small, tall table beside the bed.

This time, there is no juice on the tray, and instead a larger bottle of water takes its place, a breakfast sandwich instead of pancakes, but the bowl of fruit beside the plate remains the same, just like the odd, green tray that resides on the table, now.

Inaho gazes at it for a moment before catching Elis' gaze, the blond smiling a bit.

“I.. remembered that you liked eggs, more than anything,” Elis says softly, looking a bit sheepish, “Does that still stand? You used to bring in egg dishes for lunch, and you shared them with me..”

“.. yes,” Inaho says after a moment, trying to remain passive; it must not work because Elis grins at him, lighting up.

“Good. Do you need anything else before I settle down? I'll take your vitals after you finish eating,” Elis says, leaning against the bed a bit, blue-green eyes flickering between dark, dark brown and the white sheets. “Are you cold? You get cold easily, don't you?”

“I'm fine,” Inaho says, shaking his head; he is wearing socks, this time, coloured a somewhat off-putting shade of orange; Inko had mentioned he might be a fall risk, that the coloured socks indicated he is meant to be watched in case he were to get up and walk around. He had hid his feet with the blanket, not wanting to look at the colour, and he feels relatively fine now, if not just the slightest bit drowsy from the medication still in his system. “I have a question, actually,” he says, and then gestures to the chair, “You can sit.”

Elis nods a bit and does just that, pulling the chair up a bit closer to the bed, resting his arms on it. “What would you like to ask me?”

“How long you've been dead.”

The blond's face slowly drains of colour, smile slipping as he gazes at the other, taken by complete and utter surprise. “Wh.. what?” he asks weakly, voice trembling, unsteady.

Inaho turns the phone back on and unlocks it, holding it up so that the nurse can see the information displayed on the screen. “Elis Vers Allusia, a foreign transfer student from Shin-awara High School, jumped off of the school building a day after graduation for an unknown reason. Allusia survived the fall but later died in the hospital after falling unconscious; doctors were unable to revive him. Authorities were unable to locate any family members, and friends were unable to recall any mention of family in the area. According to friends, he had been relatively happy, but school teachers were unable to recall what classes he had been in, and his school records were lost. No more information about Allusia is available.”

Inaho raises his head a bit, watching as Elis' gaze slips downward, nervousness on his features, blanketed fear. “This was encrypted,” he says quietly, “And search results for your name bring up nothing, except a girl's personal media. Her name is Asseylum Vers Allusia, and the only mentions of 'Elis' are in her own personal posts, but even she doesn't have any pictures of you. I assume she's related to you, in some way.”

“Yes,” Elis answers, nodding somewhat, “We're.. related, in some way.”

 _You're still being vague,_ Inaho thinks to himself, frowning a bit as he gazes at the other, _What else are you hiding?_ “Are you really dead? Or was that a prank of some sort?”

“.. I'm.. truly dead,” Elis answers, and his voice grows softer still, “Inaho, I..–”

“There were a few other encrypted files I found, though they were articles from about five hundred years ago, about a boy named Slaine Troyard who died in his own home, the circumstances of which are still unknown and under investigation today,” Inaho continues, pulling the phone away to flip through a few more screens, settling on one after a second and gazing at it. “He.. looks kind of similar to you, doesn't he?” he asks softly, holding up a photo of an old painting, “The painting doesn't do you nearly enough justice, but the resemblance is there, isn't it?”

Elis gazes at the photo, features slipping further, and he lightly bites at his lip now, still unnerved, still hesitant.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Inaho asks, giving the blond a chance to go ahead and just say it himself, “My memory is still a bit fuzzy, but I remember something you told me when we were children, now.”

Pulling away from the bed, the blond sighs quietly, brushing a tuft of platinum out of his face, and finally allows himself a sheepish, weak smile. “You remembered,” he whispers, defeated; he does not seem sad or upset, just a bit.. lonely, relieved and surprised all at the same time. “You really remembered,” he says again, and his smile relaxes just a bit, glad that he no longer has to hide things, bottle up feelings and memories.

“Inko told me about the necklace,” Inaho murmurs, gesturing to his own neck, setting the phone back down on his lap, “You kept it. Even after..” He trails off, both of them knowing what incident he is talking about.

The blonds nods somewhat as he pulls the chain out from under his turtleneck, holding it out, allowing the shiny, brown button to catch the light. “Of.. of course I kept it,” he whispers, “It's.. You said that this.. was your heart, and..”

“And I gave it to you,” Inaho finishes, something light in his chest, warm, familiar, “I chose to give my heart to you.”

_Because I.._

“.. do you.. remember my name?”

Inaho gazes at the other for a moment, and then manages a small smile. “It's nice to see you again, Slaine Troyard.”

*

Inko remains quiet as she watches the two quietly talk to each other, making note of how Inaho is holding the blond's hands, the way their fingers are loosely laced together.. “He looks happy,” she murmurs to Yuki, who is getting antsy, impatient; she has wanted to see Inaho since last night, but visiting times had been restricted due to him still being unconscious and not quite settled, yet.

“What did I miss?” Yuki asks quietly, “Why won't you tell me what happened?”

“That's Inaho's high school sweetheart,” Inko whispers, “Do you remember the boy he used to talk about endlessly, the one who he said made him lunch sometimes?”

Yuki tries to go through her mind, nodding somewhat when she recalls a person who vaguely fits that description; Inaho had said that there was a nice upperclassman whom he could talk to often, someone who sometimes brought an extra bento with him and let Inaho have it, someone in the gardening club who cultivated pretty flowers near the school's outside lunch areas..

She had not thought much of it then, had just thought Inaho had made a new friend, but..

“He.. liked that boy?” she asks, “In a romantic way?”

“He was head-over-heels for him,” Inko answers, nodding, “And that boy was Elis, the same boy who was his best friend in elementary school.”

“How.. did we forget that?” Yuki questions, frowning somewhat to herself, the idea perplexing; if Inaho was so enamoured with this person, how could they have possibly forgotten what he had looked like? What he had acted like? His name?

How could Inaho have forgotten?

“I.. guess it doesn't really matter,” Yuki murmurs after a moment, shaking her head, “Nao.. seems happy.”

“.. yeah. He does.”

*

“You're aware my sisters are watching us from the doorway?” Inaho whispers, and Slaine nods somewhat, cheeks flushed red.

“Y.. yes, I'm aware..”

Inaho pauses for a moment, loosely gripping Slaine's hands in his own, allowing his thumbs to gently smooth the other's warm skin, and the action feels a bit familiar, just a bit, and Slaine has yet to stop him or say something about it, so he assumes the action is wanted. “You.. could have lied to me,” he says after a second, “You could have told me I was mistaken. That I was wrong. Why didn't you lie to me? After you went through the trouble of deceiving me?”

“I.. can't lie to you, not really,” Slaine murmurs, shaking his head, “What I said before – about lying being a sin – that wasn't.. it wasn't a joke. I can _mislead_ you, deceive you, and.. do things to your head that I probably _shouldn't_ , but.. I can't truly lie to you.” He smiles somewhat, apologetic, sheepish, though relaxes somewhat upon Inaho gently squeezing his hands. “I'm.. sorry, for what I did to you, Inaho. It was – it was wrong, but I..”

“Why'd you take my memories away?” Inaho asks, genuinely curious, not at all hurt, “This all could have been avoided – the misunderstandings, the deception.. Didn't it make things harder?”

“My job.. is to keep you safe. From anything, from everything, and.. my existence hurt you. You kept getting into accidents, and.. and it was my fault, somehow. I'm sure of that. You kept getting into accidents, and I couldn't keep you safe enough, so I.. erased myself, because.. I thought it would keep you safe. Safer, at least, if you didn't have any knowledge of what I am..” Slaine explains, keeping his tone purposely low so that Yuki and Inko cannot hear him, and he sounds kind of pained despite his smile, seems _lonely_. “It.. worked, in a way. You got into less accidents, and.. you were okay.. and as long as you were okay, I was doing my job, and I didn't care that you had forgotten me. I didn't care because you were happy.”

“Your happiness matters, too, Slaine,” Inaho points out, “You weren't happy with that arrangement, were you? That's why you came back.”

“Mine doesn't matter nearly as much as yours does,” Slaine retorts, “You're alive and human, and I'm..” He shakes his head a bit, and his smile still seems empty, weak, disheartened. “You're more loved than I am. And that's okay,” he insists, and he gently squeezes Inaho's this time, trying to prove how _okay_ he is, “It's a simple fact, and.. that's okay.”

“But you're..–”

“What're you two whispering about?”

Inaho lifts his head slightly, finding his sisters standing in the doorway now, presumably tired of waiting there, though it was most likely Yuki's idea given the slightly impatient, albeit curious look on her face. Inko stands quietly beside her, smiling a bit clumsily, hands hidden behind her back as she gazes at the duo.

“I was just telling Inaho about how loved he is,” Slaine answers, and Inaho understands a bit more what the nurse had meant before – not quite the truth, but not a complete lie, a true statement with some details left out. “He's so lucky to have a supportive family.”

“Oh,” Yuki blinks, taken by surprise, and relaxes into an easy, proud smile. “Of course! You love him, too, don't you?”

Slaine's face flushes and his gaze slips, taken by surprised by the sudden question. His grip tightens just a bit on Inaho's hands, gently, but enough to signal that he is thoroughly embarrassed by the statement.

“Yuki..” Inaho murmurs, frowning somewhat, “Please refrain from embarrassing him.”

“I'll try, Nao, but I can't promise anything,” Yuki hums, beaming as she gazes at him.

Inko bites back a smile beside her, then, trying to hide her amusement with how the older brunette seems to be taking this; in stride, and very easily, it would seem. “We're happy for you, Inaho. Childhood friends to high school sweethearts, to young adults in love.. You could tell that romantic story a thousand times over!”

Inaho remains quiet, not quite sure how _romantic_ the story would be with every bit of information there actually is. His memory is still foggy, still vague, fuzzy like the static of an old television, and he is still missing details of various memories; it seems that whatever Slaine had done to him had been done rather well. “Yuki-nee, did you bring me a change of clothing?” he asks, changing the subject, “I'm ready to be discharged, aren't I?”

Slaine raises his head a bit, cheeks still heavy with a warm blush. “I.. have to check your vitals before you leave, and you need to eat your breakfast. And then you're free to go. We have to make sure you've regained motor control and you can perform simple tasks, and make sure you're no longer in pain..” he says quietly, managing a smile, “Is that alright?”

“Of course!” Yuki answers immediately, nodding, “We'll leave your things here and come back in a bit to get you. Then we can go home and you can rest.”

*

“.. so, how slim were the chances that I would actually remember you?” Inaho questions, trying to stay still as Slaine measures his blood pressure, the cuff around his arm tight. He manages to catch the nurse's gaze and earns a small smile, one that says he should _not_ have remembered anything, much less Slaine's actual name.

“They were.. _supposed_ to be next to impossible.. but I suppose it would be much harder to take memories from someone who's in love with someone else they've known for most of their life,” Slaine answers quietly, and he finally stops squeezing the small inflation bulb and glances over at the manometer, mumbling numbers under his breath. He pulls away and takes the cuff off, the velcro loud in the quiet room, scratchy, and jots down the numbers on the small chart beside him, using it instead of the tablet this time. “I guess you could say it was supposed to be almost impossible, but.. I don't think my staying near you even after the memory change was my best idea..” he continues, and his smile turns a bit sad, lonely again, “I just.. missed you. It was hard, staying away, even if I knew I had to.. And it was hard, during high school – you didn't even believe I was real..”

“I think that had something to do with the medication I was taking at the time.”

Slaine nods somewhat, frowning then, “I know. You were taking anti-depressants, stimulants, and anti-psychotics, because you thought it might help with your condition.. but they.. didn't really help, did they?”

“.. they didn't, no.”

Slaine folds up the cuff and sets it aside, fingertips brushing against Inaho's own, hesitant, warm. “I'm.. glad you stopped taking them. They weren't any good to your chemical balance..” he murmurs, and Inaho manages to smile at that, content now that he knows what triggered what Inko had said been a change in his personality at that time.

According to her, he had been more withdrawn than usual, more quiet, sullen, and he found school work difficult, frustrating.

Inaho decides to change the subject to a lighter one, and gently starts to turn Slaine's hand over, exposing his wrist. “About.. what you are..” he murmurs, tracing his finger over the faint tattoo embedded into his skin, the thin lines warm against his fingertip, and he thinks he can feel Slaine's pulse, “I.. can't remember.”

“That's fine,” Slaine says, shaking his head, fingers twitching as Inaho continues to trace over the delicate skin on his wrist. “I told you when you were a child; that memory is completely gone, I made sure of it.. since you're an adult, now, I can't tell you outright, but I am allowed to answer yes and no if you guess..” he admits, and he smiles again, this time warm, soft, familiar, _affectionate_ , and somehow Inaho realises that Slaine had not always been this way, that somewhere, deep in his memories, he remembers how withdrawn Slaine himself had been, how quiet, shy he had been, and he thinks he read about it when he still remembered perfectly just who Slaine Troyard had been.

Five hundred years is more than enough to change a person, especially given what Inaho thinks might be Slaine's family history; he can vaguely recall Slaine being without a mother, and his father had been a doctor of some sort, a sort of research specialist who spent far too much time at work, away from his son.

Five hundred years can change someone who had been neglected, Inaho thinks. It is enough to change someone, but fear and loneliness are hard to push away.

“I'm not going to forget you again,” Inaho says firmly, and he rests his hand over Slaine's wrist, being gentle with him, careful, “I'm going to remember, this time. Even if something does happen.”

Slaine blinks, looking surprised by the sudden statement, but he softens into a small smile, blue-green eyes slipping. “.. thank you, Inaho,” he murmurs, and his voice is a bit shaky, soft, “This time.. I'd like to stay by your side.”

“I want you to stay, too,” Inaho says, and the blond lifts his head just enough to meet his eyes, looking _relieved_. “Let's go,” he murmurs, pulling at Slaine's hand, loosely lacing their fingers together, “I want to introduce you to my parents. I think it's only right they meet the person I intend on spending the rest of my life with.”

**

“Oh, they installed a heater in your room? This wasn't here a few days ago..” Slaine says, allowing his fingers to run along the heater's metal top, though he quickly pulls away upon feeling the warm, warm heat nearly assault his skin.

“.. how do you know that?” Inaho asks, raising an eyebrow as he sits at the edge of his bed, pulling on a pair of socks. His room is warmer now, much warmer than it had been before, but the floor still feels a bit too cold for his bare feet and he would rather wear socks than listen to his sandals or slippers pad against the wooden floors.

Slaine turns around at that, cheeks a light red again, and he gently smooths over his tattoo with his thumb. “I.. erm.. make sure to check up on you, occasionally,” he admits, “To make sure you're okay, but.. I'll stop, since we're..”

“.. since we're together, now?” Inaho offers, and Slaine's face flushes further; apparently, he is still not used to the romantic aspect of their relationship, which makes since, given how things were handled five hundred years ago, how they are still handled now in their current country of residence. “Can I ask you something?” he calls, deciding to change the subject to spare the poor blond from embarrassment.

“Of course,” Slaine says immediately, nodding.

“Whose heartbeat is that? On your wrist?”

Slaine blinks, holding it up for a moment. “It's yours,” he says simply, as if Inaho had already known, and then he cocks his head as if Inaho had asked him something silly or simple, “You.. were unaware?”

“You didn't really say whose it was when you ordered your first drink at the café,” Inaho points out, and Slaine smiles a bit at that, shrugging as he walks over and sits beside him on the bed, and somehow he still feels sort weightless in a way Inaho was not expecting, sort of like..

_Oh._

“I believe Calm and Nina are waiting for us in the living room.. Calm was the one who installed the heater, wasn't he?” Slaine asks curiously, “I remember them, a bit. They're foreign, and they were kind to you in elementary school.. I liked them. I felt a bit better leaving because you had them and your family..”

“Yes, he was,” Inaho answers with a small nod, gazing at his feet for a moment; Slaine had gotten him some socks from the hospital – not the orange ones, and Slaine had promised not to get him orange anything after Inaho voiced his dislike of the colour – and these ones are warm and a bit heavy, but are insulated. He allows his hand to rest over Slaine's again and loosely laces their fingers together, meeting the blond's eyes, face, and smiles just a bit. “I remembered something,” he says softly, and Slaine lights up, blue-green eyes widening in what Inaho has come to recognise has happiness, relief, relief that the memories are still there, albeit buried deep, deep down, and not completely erased.

“What did you remember?” Slaine asks, and his voice is quiet, expectant, eager; it reminds Inaho of when they were children and how _warm_ Slaine had been, how patient and how supportive he had been.

“I.. remembered..” Inaho lifts his other hand a bit, fingers grazing Slaine's neck, where he can see a few more feathery tattoos along his skin, wispy, and now that they are this close he can see that they almost move, sort of, that they are ruffled a bit, and his fingers linger over them for a moment, just a second. He gently cups Slaine's cheek, smoothing his skin with his thumb, and Slaine offers him a small smile, still patient, still warm, “.. I remembered what you are.”

Slaine remains quiet as Inaho gazes at him, breathing soft, even, and even Inaho's heart remains steady, not at all hastened by their sudden proximity, not at all startled.

“You're my angel,” Inaho whispers, voice so low the statement almost comes out inaudible, but Slaine manages to hear it just fine in the near-silent room.

The heater buzzes quietly in the background, though it is rendered silent when Inaho leans forward and brushes their lips together just for a second, just enough to count, and when he pulls away he feels a bit dizzy, _ecstatic_ , and Slaine smiles at him in a way that feels familiar, safe.

“I'm your angel,” Slaine affirms, and Inaho breathes out softly, relieved that he had remembered, happy that he had gotten it right, “And I'm not going to disappear, this time. I'll stay right here, with you, where I'm supposed to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently the longest one-shot I've ever written, and I'm very, very proud of it. I absolutely adored writing this for Rosiel's anthology, it was an amazing experience, and I'm so happy I get to share this piece with you guys!
> 
>  
> 
> also, yes, this is the thing that was meant to be shared with you guys in February ❤  
> if you guys are interested, Rosiel is also hosting a game for all of the fics in the anthology, so please do go and check that out on their [website](www.orangebat-sanctuary.com) and [Tumblr account](https://kanaevil.tumblr.com/).


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